Son of a Hunter II: Operation Sherwood
by LordOfTheBagels
Summary: Part two of my "Son of a Hunter" trilogy, following on from "The Story of Steven Muldoon". This is my version of the Jurassic Park tale, following the adventures of Bob Muldoon's offspring, Steve, and the characters from the first film. Contains mild language, violence and extreme British badassery. R&R greatly appreciated!
1. Night Terrors

**Son of a Hunter II: Operation Sherwood**

_London calling to the faraway towns, now war is declared, and battle come down, London calling to the underworld, come out of the cupboard, you boys and girls…_

The distant music floated on the wind, weaving its way between the trees of Hyde Park and eventually reaching the ears of Steven Muldoon. He turned up his collar against the brisk winter breeze and continued on his way home.

The sound of The Clash gradually faded as Steve left Hyde Park and made his way through the darkening East London streets. Streetlights began to ignite individually, each casting an insignificant cone of light against the December gloom. Somewhere in the distance sirens wailed, a fire engine threading its way through the rush hour traffic, no doubt on a mission to perform some act of heroism.

_Heroism. Look where heroism gets you._

The bitter thought flashed through the young man's mind. He was a young man indeed now, at 18 years of age. Two years since he was orphaned.

_Two whole years._

When stated in such a fashion it sounded like a long time, but that fateful weekend on the _Isla Nublar_ felt like it had happened only yesterday. The physical pain had subsided long ago, but the mental pain was still there – strong as ever, along with a tremendous sense of loss… A crippling feeling of emptiness that inescapably followed him throughout his every waking moment… And most of his sleeping ones.

Steve had hated his time in Hospital in the immediate aftermath of the _Isla Nubla_r incident. He could remember waking up for the first time, feeling the uncanny sensation of being somehow distanced from his aching, battered body. People had been there, smartly dressed ones, sitting at the foot of his bed. One of them asked how he was feeling, before inquiring if Steve would mind answering a few questions. Steve had nodded groggily but was not expecting the barrage of questions that followed. Slowly, he had answered them as best he could - they were mainly geared around Jurassic Park, what he had seen, heard and done. This had brought home to Steve the fate of his father, the realisation sweeping over him like a tide and causing the tears saved from outside the maintenance shed to flow.

Despite this, the questioning continued and Steve, scared and miserable, gave increasingly vague answers until at last a doctor arrived and chased the suited men away.

Steve had been discharged from Hospital several weeks after that fateful weekend and immediately flown to a large InGen complex in Washington – Steve couldn't remember where exactly, his memory was increasingly blurred from this point onwards. He was taken into a building that felt uncomfortably like the administration centre, back on the _Isla Nublar_.

Steve had been ushered into a small office where several executives were waiting for him – Steve recognised a few of them as the same people that had questioned him in Hospital. He was told that his services as warden were no longer required due to Jurassic Park closing down. Steve had asked what was being done about his father's death and was immediately shown a clause in his contract detailing that a fatal accident concerning Muldoon senior would result in instant termination of Steve's contract with no compensation awarded. There was also a clause regarding secrecy, stating that all employees were subject to certain signatory acts that the Muldoons had apparently agreed to – Bob had always joked about reading the small print. Dumbfounded, Steve asked to see John Hammond but was told, in so many words, to get lost.

Steve still had nightmares about this ordeal – more so than he dreamt about the happenings on the _Isla Nublar_. After all, he had been brought up as a hunter, and facing dinosaurs in combat was no different to taking down a hostile big game animal. However, Steve had never told anyone about the dreams, or his past for that matter.

Even if InGen hadn't sworn him to secrecy, there was nothing to be gained from grassing the company up – besides, who was going to believe an 18-year-old refuse collector of dubious national tax authenticity. That was what he was now of course – Steve no longer lead the life of a game warden. Instead, he spent his days traipsing the streets of London town, tracking nothing more dangerous than litter and hunting only tin cans and crisp packets – objects not known for their deadly nature.

Although Steve had lost almost all of his possessions on the _Isla Nublar_, his passport and savings had been kept on the mainland by InGen and subsequently returned to him, the money being just enough to buy him a flight to Heathrow and rent him a grubby little East London flat. He considered it better just to lay low and get on with life after Jurassic Park, not to mention life after Bob Muldoon.

Steve was nearing the end of the short walk through the maze of residential streets and back alleys that lead to the estate containing his abode. The final passageway was the longest and coincidentally the darkest, as the watery winter sun had almost completely faded into dusk. He entered the alley and strode on, hunching his shoulders against the freezing wind that was funneled down the urban valley of tower blocks and multistory car parks.

Steve was about half way down the passageway when he noticed them – a group of about six youths, each brandishing a small bottle in hand and frequently taking swigs of the liquid contained within – Steve doubted very much that it was orange juice. He considered his next move; the gang were at the far end of the alley, meaning that he could easily turn back and take the long way round to his estate.

A while ago, Steven Muldoon might have boldly walked on and taken his chances with the gang – after all, he had successfully faced and fought rogue Lions, rampaging Elephants and escaped Velociraptors in his time - a drunken group of kids should pose no threat to him whatsoever. But now things were different, and the thought of carrying on didn't even cross Steve's mind. Something had changed in Steve during the aftermath of Jurassic Park – it was as if a part of him had been left behind on that tropical island he knew so well. A part of him he had never recovered.

The cold wind whipping about him, Steve turned on his heel and retraced his steps out of the alley. As he neared the end of passage, he heard a noise from behind and glanced back over his shoulder – there was some kind of disturbance among the youths.

A figure had entered the alley from the end nearest the gang and walked straight into them. Steve saw the figure was a boy of about fourteen, carrying a rucksack. The ex-warden could hear raised voices and, as far as could make out, the youths wanted something from the newcomer. Apparently this something was not delivered and a scuffle broke out. The fight didn't last long and the boy was soon pinned against the wall by two of the gang members, while the others went through his rucksack. There was an exclamation of tipsy triumph and one of the searchers pulled out a small item. Steve just stood there and watched, his fascination similar to when he had watched the Tyrannosaur devour the trouser-less lawyer two years ago.

The boy said something that obviously angered his captors and received a hefty punch for his troubles. The two holding him shoved him to the floor unleashed a barrage of kicks, the lad half curling up in an attempt to shelter from the violent onslaught. One of the other youths pulled the two attackers away from their victim and the group moved out of the alley, laughing amongst themselves and taking drinks from their bottles.

As they left, Steve knew he should go over and check how badly the boy was injured. He shook himself out of his daze and forced himself to jog up the now deserted alley.

Steve soon reached the crumpled body of the boy, who was struggling to stand.

"You okay mate?" Steve asked.

The kid ignored him and scrabbled about for his rucksack, his hand eventually clasping the straps. He finally managed to stand and stumbled off into the night, back the way he had come just minutes before, leaving Steve standing in the alley, alone with his thoughts. A moment before he disappeared, the boy threw a look back over his shoulder, a look that said it all.

_"Why didn't you help me?"_ It read.

Steve stared at the ground and saw blood – lots of blood. He cursed soundly and kicked the wall in frustration.

_What the hell is happening to me... I should have done something… Anything! Oh, bugger this. Bugger it all!_

Steve stood there for a few seconds before trudging out of the alley, halfheartedly glancing around for any trace of the boy or the gang. Of course, there was none.

He made his way up the external stairway at the back of his apartment block, the wind doing its best to rip him from the metal framework, and walked seven doors down. The eighth was his. His frozen hands fumbled with his keys and, as the first flecks of snow began to fall, he let himself in and slammed the door shut behind him.

The interior of the apartment was dark and Steve felt his way into the tiny kitchenette, his fingers exploring the wall until he found the light switch. The lights buzzed on dimly, illuminating most of the apartment. He worked his way around turning on lights, knowing which ones had working bulbs. This didn't take the young man long – there were only three rooms as such, separated by thin partition walls.

Steve removed his orange work jacket and threw it deftly onto a peg behind the door. As he did so, he saw there were three envelopes sitting on the doormat.

_Strange… Who knows I live here?_

He picked the three letters up and sat down on his grimy sofa. The first letter contained an invoice, demanding that he pay the outstanding rent on his flat, or else. Truth be told, Steve had been receiving these letters for weeks and nothing had happened – he hoped it would stay that way, at least until payday.

The second letter was encased in a spotless white envelope, of the kind often employed by legal firms, seeming very out of place in Steve's current surroundings. He ripped the letter open with a flourish, half expecting to find a court summons inside. Instead, he discovered the letter contained a folded piece of A4 and smaller rectangle of thick paper.

Steve unfolded the A4 and took a sharp intake of breath. The logo in the top right corner was that of InGen. The creators of Jurassic Park. His old employers. The company his father had lost his life serving.

_How the hell did they know where I was?_

Needless to say, this was the first time Steve had received any sort of communication from the genetics company – he imagined they had forgotten he existed, especially considering the terms on which they parted. He hastily began to read the document.

_Dear Mr. Muldoon,_

_I hope this finds you well._

_I am writing to most humbly request your consultation upon a matter of the utmost importance. Unfortunately the nature of this advice is such that you will be required to attend a meeting at my place of residence, but please rest assured, your service fee will be more than adequate. In fact, I am offering you the sum of twenty thousand dollars cash to be provided to you upon arrival. I trust you will not let me down._

_I have included in this correspondence an aeroplane ticket to Washington D.C. for your use and have also taken the liberty of arranging a private chauffeur to collect you from the airport and transport you to my abode upon the arrival of your flight._

_Yours sincerely,_

_John Hammond_

_C.E.O. InGen Corp._

Steve had to read the letter again, and then once more before it sunk in.

_Why on earth would that bastard want my advice after all this time? He never listened when I need his help… But when it's the other way round, he expects me to come running! But twenty thousand dollars just to turn up at his house? That's a lot of money… I could pay off my rent for years and still have enough to buy a proper tele…_

The bewildered young man took a closer look at the smaller piece of paper – it was an airline ticket, from London Heathrow to Washington. The date of the flight was tomorrow.

_But do I want to get involved with InGen and that bugger Hammond again? Probably better to keep away from him and his crappy corporation, especially after what happened… After all, he never gave a damn about me, why should I help him now…_

Steve could think of plenty of reasons why he should and shouldn't go, but eventually the rent invoice, lying discarded beside him, caught his eye – in particular the line that read "Final Notice: Outstanding Payment".

_Looks like I don't have a bloody choice. Can't risk getting turfed out this old place, I've got nowhere else to go._

Steve came to a reluctant conclusion. He tossed the letter down on the small table in front of him and stretched, letting out a small sigh before walking over to a large cupboard, secured with a combination padlock. This was the only object in the flat that belonged to Steve; the other furnishings came along with the apartment.

Steve set the tumblers on the well-worn padlock to the correct position – the numbers read 7734 – and it slipped open with a slight click. Inside, the apparently unremarkable cupboard contained all of Steve's worldly possessions: his passport and documentation, an envelope containing a small quantity of loose change, an old alarm clock, a pair of white overalls (courtesy of the hospital), a couple of t-shirts, Steve's hunting belt, Bob Muldoon's hat, a pocketbook and a small plastic object.

The latter two objects had been gifts from the Murphy children – they had visited just before Steve left hospital. Obviously under orders, they had thanked him and wished him well before being ushered out by nurses, but not before they had each placed something on Steve's bedside table.

Tim left a small book, which was entitled "The Spotter's Guide to Dinosaurs", while Lex gave Steve the small piece of plastic, upon which was inscribed XP-011972, next to the Jurassic Park logo. Steve supposed she must have taken it from the control room before things got greasy.

Steve picked up the book and carefully turned the pages. On each there was a picture of a dinosaur, along with a paragraph on the depicted animal's characteristics. Steve smiled as he saw the faded pencil tick beside the picture of a Triceratops – Tim had seen that one.

Steve yawned suddenly and placed the pocketbook down. He reached deeper into the cupboard and pulled out the alarm clock. Steve padlocked the doors shut and consulted the airline ticket again, setting the hands on the clock accordingly. He then slumped down on the sofa and closed his eyes, instantly falling into a fitful sleep.

_There were lights above Steve's head, extremely bright ones, their brilliant glare mirrored in his eyes – Steve wasn't sure how he knew that…_

_He suddenly became aware there were people standing by his bed talking, just out of his field of vision, but try as he might, Steve could not hear what was being said…_

_He tried to crane his neck and catch a glimpse, but this effort was brought up short by an almost material wall of agony searing through his body. His body? He couldn't feel his legs! Steve tried kicked out in fright, desperately attempting to reassure himself his limbs were still there. Sure enough, more pain exploded through his semi-consciousness. Steve was forced to keep still, the throbbing subsiding slightly as he did so…_

_Listening out, he noticed the voices by his bed had changed pitch – they were getting closer. Steve realised they were angry, but he couldn't for the life of him make out the words…_

_The speech echoed round his head, seeming to bounce off the walls of his skull. Steve knew he must have cried out in terror because the voices immediately began to recede, replaced by the feeling of strong hands gripping his body. They held him tighter and tighter still, Steve shook himself frantically, ignoring the returning agony but to no avail – they wouldn't let go! Exhausted, he summoned one last rush of energy and rolled over and over, falling down, away from those sharp, vicious hands…_

_****Thump****_

Steve woke up on the floor.


	2. Appointment in Washington

The sleek limousine glided through the rush-hour traffic, its elegant black exterior emblazoned in multiple places with the InGen logo. Inside, Steve was sitting on the spacious back seat, contemplating his appointment with Mr John Hammond.

_Travelling in style, he's laying it on pretty thick. I wonder what could be worth all this hassle…_

Steve had been picked up promptly from his abode in London and whisked away to the airport, from where he had flown first class to Dulles International. Now, he was being driven swiftly through the streets of Washington in a company stretch limo with blacked-out windows.

Steve looked out of said glass and, from his surroundings, guessed they had passed through Washington and were on the outskirts of the capital. As if to confirm this thought, a manicured voice spoke over the speaker recessed in the foot well.

"Sir, we are about to arrive at Mr Hammond's mansion."

_The car has intercom. Now that's just showing off._

The car turned left and drove through a stone archway, a security barrier lifting to allow the car through. They sped down a long gravel driveway and approached a building that was almost too big to describe as a mansion. There were ornate towers, turrets, battlements and windows, lots and lots of windows.

_The old fool's built bloody Buckingham Palace over here!_ Thought Steve, suddenly and potently remembering his dislike for the mansion's owner.

The limousine pulled up outside the main entrance and the driver disembarked, swiftly opening the rear door and offering his hand to help Steve out. The ex-warden ignored the proffered limb and stepped out of the car, making his way up a dramatic stone flight of steps to the porch – the structure looked as if it had been designed for giants.

_Typical Hammond – always goes for huge doors. He wouldn't care if the rest of the house was empty, just as long as there's a nice big front door._

The massive wooden slab swung open before Steve reached it. Standing there was a large man in a not quite so large suit, a tiny waiter's cloth draped somewhat comically over his right shoulder.

"Good evening Mr Muldoon, Mr Hammond is expecting you. Kindly follow me." He spoke in a similar manner to the chauffeur, as if his voice had been designed with the sole purpose of accommodating those words – a born butler.

_Don't tell me his name's Jeeves._

Steve obliged and followed the man through a maze of corridors, stairways and halls, until eventually they stopped and _Jeeves_ rapped on a mahogany door that bore the word "Study" on a plaque. A voice called from the other side and the butler opened the door, striding in sedately.

"Your appointment has arrived, sir." Steve heard _Jeeves_ say and, without waiting for further invitation, the young man stepped inside.

The room, like everything else, was huge. One wall was almost entirely taken up by a floor-to-ceiling window and the others were hung with paintings – something told Steve they were all originals. John Hammond was sitting behind a desk, cluttered with papers and instruments, in the centre of the room. Steve noted with interest that there were no computers apparent.

"Ahh, Mr Muldoon! So glad you could make it!" Hammond guffawed as the butler slipped out. "Please, do sit down. I trust you had a pleasant journey?"

Steve nodded warily, a little overwhelmed by the plush luxury of his surroundings. He sat down in the chair Hammond indicated, noticing as he did so that the floor was covered with an expensive-looking Persian rug.

"You must be hungry Steven! You don't mind if I call you Steven, do you?" Steve nodded again. "Excellent, excellent, I'll ring for some provisions."

Steve finally got a grip on himself. "Mr Hammond, I'm not sure why…"

"Please please, do call me John." Hammond cut

Steve took a deep breath and continued. "Fine, John it is. Now, I'm…" He was cut off again by the butler entering, this time carrying a flamboyant silver tray laden with food.

"Goddamit." Steve muttered under his breath. Hammond pretended not to hear.

"Good show, good show." Muttered Hammond as the butler set the tray down on the desk. "Dig in old boy, I have this stuff specially flown in from Italy!"

Steve gazed as Hammond shoveled vast quantities of ice cream into his mouth and waited impatiently for him to finish, frustration at every one of Hammond's past irresponsible actions building inside him. At last, Hammond finished his plate and daintily wiped his mouth on a silk handkerchief.

"Now, down to business. I know you must be wondering why I sent for you."

Now it was Steve's turn to cut Hammond off. "Damn right I am." He growled. "You leave me in the lurch for two whole years and then expect me to come running back at your command! Well let me tell you here and now, if I didn't have to pay…"

Hammond raised a hand for silence. "Steven, you have to understand the position I was in following the failure of Jurassic Park. It was hard enough for me to keep InGen from shutting down altogether without having to pay off every single member of my workforce. Even so, we had to decrease our operations by a third and what's more, your contract clearly stated…"

"To hell with my contract!" Steve exploded, the anger of the past two years rising uncontrollably to the surface. "You had a duty, not just to me but to everyone who worked on that damn island, and you failed, backed out, hell, chickened out of it! You left me to rot, Hammond!"

Hammond was about to remind Steve to call him John but thought better of it, instead attempting to appease his ex-employee's anger. The old man struggled to compose a sentence to this end, but Steve beat him to it.

"Look, just tell me what you want me to do, give me the money and then I can get out of here." Said Steve more quietly – the outburst hadn't been as satisfying as he had hoped.

Hammond spoke. "Well… You see… It's not quite that simple."

"What do you mean, not simple?!" Steve was angry again. "You wrote to me asking for advice in return for a large sum of money and payed travel. That sounds pretty damn simple to me!"

Hammond held up both hands. "Okay, okay. All I ask is you let me explain something to you first."

Steve sat back in his chair huffily and crossed his arms. "I'm all ears." He said.

"Fine, fine." Hammond murmured, standing up and crossing to the window, his body silhouetted in the evening light filtering into the room. He seemed to compose himself, and started talking a moment later.

"You remember how we created the dinosaurs for Jurassic Park? By mixing Amphibian DNA with that we extracted from blood-sucking insects preserved in amber."

Steve nodded. As part of the introduction to their game warden duties, Steve and Bob had been taken on the semi-complete laboratory tour.

Hammond continued. "Well, a few weeks ago I received a letter. It was from a gentleman who referred to himself as 'El Pero' – it translates as 'The But', but my people inform me that it's probably a misspelling and was meant to read 'The Dog'. In fact, we suspect it might be an alias."

Steve rolled his eyes and cut in. "Can we get to the point?"

Hammond frowned but carried on. "Anyway, this individual wanted to buy some DNA patterns – advanced versions of those we used to create the Jurassic Park dinos. He offered us a huge amount of money for the special patterns and seemed to know and awful lot about our research, research that we never knowingly publicised. Of course, we turned the offer down out of hand and that appeared to be that - at least, until last week, when we received this…"

The old man crossed the room back to his desk and dug around in the heap of papers piled there, finally fishing out a crisp white page which Hammond passed across the table to Steve. Taking a closer look, the ex-warden saw it was a computer printout with a few lines of indecipherable text written upon it. It took Steve a second or two to work out why he couldn't understand the writing – the text was in Spanish.

Steve looked up. "You know very well I don't speak that lingo."

Hammond leaned over and looked at the sheet. "Damn, wrong one… Now where's that translation got to?" He started hunting around on his desk again but gave up a moment later. "The gist of it was something like this… 'If you continue to refuse to sell us the goods, we will be forced to take persuasive measures. These actions will be ruthless and without mercy. If you continue to resist we regret that harm and woe must darken at your door.'"

Steve snorted in derision. "Who the hell does this guy think he is?! 'Harm and woe must darken at your door', what a prick. Why are you even taking this seriously?"

Hammond's face was grave. "Because I found this message on my private computer, obviously left there for me to happen upon. I am the only one who has such access to the drives and it is connected to no network, meaning the message could not have been placed remotely."

Steve frowned. "So you're the only one who could have stuck it there, and I'm guessing you didn't… So who else could it be?"

"There are very few people who even know of the machine's existence, as it accommodates my private project files. It could only have been one of my most trusted aides." Hammond replied.

"An inside job, then." Steve asserted.

"By all accounts, it looks that way." Said Hammond. "Anyway, despite this, I still turned down all further offers from The Dog to buy my patterns, believing my security firm would keep me and my corporation safe. How foolish I was..." Hammond stood up and began pacing up and down in front of the window again.

"What d'ya mean? You're still here, alive and kicking." Said Steve.

"I may be." Replied Hammond quietly. "But they've taken my grandchildren."

There was a stunned silence. Steve was lost for words, so Hammond continued. "I idiotically supposed that The Dog meant all the harm and woe would darken on my actual door rather than my proverbial one – regrettably not the first stupid mistake I have made in the past decade. You see, two days ago, Alexis and Timothy were picked up from outside their school by three men, saying they were InGen employees and driving a black jeep. One hour later, I received another letter, this time bearing a ransom demand. They want the six complete DNA sample patterns delivered to them at a certain spot in the _Cabo Blanco Nature Reserve_, Costa Rica, where they will exchange them for the children. They gave me a week to collect and ship the patterns to the area, which gives us five days..."

Steve found some words. "Hold on, what d'ya mean, 'us'?! They're great kids, and you have my deepest condolences, but surely this is one for the police or the army?"

Hammond shook his head hurriedly. "No, I can't go to them… They threatened to hurt my grandchildren if I informed the authorities of the ransom."

"But how are they gonna know?! The guy can't even spell his own alias! Oh, wait… You think the inside man will tell."

"Exactly." Said Hammond.

"Looks like your only option is to pay up those samples." Said Steve reluctantly.

"But that's just the problem… I don't actually have the samples in my possession – they're back on the _Isla Nublar_. I should probably have told them I didn't have the DNA but you should never show your cards to a potential buyer…" Hammond fretted.

"This is all very troubling, but I still don't see why you wanted me to come here… I'm not much of an Agony Aunt." Said Steve, confused.

"An Agony Aunt, no… But a Jurassic Park warden, yes." Replied Hammond.

"What d'ya mean?" Said Steve.

Hammond gave Steve a funny look, but the ex-warden just gazed back blankly – and then the penny dropped.

"Oh god, no. No, no, no! NO! I will NOT go back to that hellhole! No, never! Not even for that! I'm sorry, but… No."

Still muttering negatives, Steve got up to leave, thoroughly shaken and in the grip of an irresistible urge to get out of the room and away from the problems of Mr John Hammond, the further away the better and as fast as was humanly possible.

As Steve was about to open the door, a soft voice reached his ears. "Look Steven, I'm… Sorry about your father. He was a good man. A great man, at that."

Steve stopped, his hand on the door handle, and nodded slightly, fighting back tears at the mention of his dad.

"I'm sorry I asked you to go back there. It's just… The children. I couldn't bear to lose them again. You know how it feels Steven, I know you do. You've lost someone you love, and it hurts... It hurts so much. I wouldn't ask someone so young but what choice do I have… Please Steven, I know you must hate me from the bottom of your heart, but I beg you to at least try and understand my position... Please, Steven... Please, just for an old man. Please. Please. Please." Hammond repeated the last word, getting quieter and quieter. Steve turned and saw the old man slumped down at his desk; small sobs issuing from his bowed head.

This sight finished off the already weakened resolve of Steven Muldoon. Somewhere, deep inside, Steve had yearned to return to the _Isla Nublar_, to extract his revenge from the bastard Velociraptors, and this situation had awakened that dormant part of him – Steve could no longer resist his all-consuming craving for vengeance. He was going to find… And kill… Those Raptors.

The young man strode over to his seat and sat down again, crossing his arms.

_Deep breath._

"What's the plan?" Asked Steve.


	3. Briefing

Hammond led the way down the corridor with Steve in tow. The old man had perked up immediately upon the young man agreeing to go on the expedition and was striding down the corridor with the air of a man half his age. Steve was beginning to suspect the crying had been an act, a performance concocted by a man used to getting his own way – Steve supposed his own moment of weakness could prove costly.

"Where are we going?" Steve asked, struggling to keep up with Hammond.

"To meet your team." Said Hammond without slowing down.

"My team? What team?" Panted Steve.

"The team you'll be leading to the _Isla Nublar_. I've handpicked you a highly capable squad and your equipment is already in Costa Rica. As soon as the briefing is done, you can hop on the plane to _Juan Santamaría _International – should be there in a few hours…" Hammond trailed off as they reached another door, this time with "Drawing Room" stencilled upon the door.

"Ready?" Asked Hammond and before Steve could reply, pushed open the door.

"Gentlemen. I should like to introduce you to Steven Muldoon." Said the old man, addressing the room.

There were five men seated in various positions around the room, some reading, some talking, one looking out the window. They stood up as Hammond entered, two of the men instinctively standing to attention. Hammond beckoned Steve inside and shut the door firmly.

"Steve?!" A tall, dark haired man in his mid 20s threw down a magazine and hurried over to Steve.

"Eddy?! What're you doing here?" Steve exclaimed in disbelief at seeing his old colleague – Mike 'Eddy' Edwards had been the Velociraptor keeper at Jurassic Park and a good friend of the Muldoons.

"Same as you I guess." Eddy replied in his soft Texan drawl and the two shook hands warmly. They had last spoken over two years ago on the eve of the _Isla Nublar_ incident, before Eddy took the ferry off the island and well before all hell broke loose.

Steve felt a hand on his shoulder and saw Hammond was indicating he should go and meet the others.

Eddy nodded encouragingly. "Catch ya later."

Hammond led Steve to the next member of the team, a short, stocky man of 37 with steely grey eyes and closely cropped blond hair. His face was expressionless as they approached.

"This is Mr Miller, my head bodyguard." Hammond introduced him. "He's a former US Army Sergeant and one of my best men – you can trust him with your life."

"Steve." Steve offered his hand to be shaken. Miller ignored it, instead sweeping his eyes critically up and down Steve, a cold, calculating expression on his face. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a temperature similar to his expression.

"At your service, sir." Miller saluted, his action all but mocking.

_I'd hazard a guess he doesn't like me very much…_ _I wonder what his problem is. _Steve mused, his hand dropping to his side.

"No need to call me 'sir', your little finger probably ranks higher than I do!" The young warden quipped, attempting to soften the bodyguard with humour but to no avail.

Hammond finally noticed the atmosphere between the two and hastily moved Steve on to the next member of the team – this man was much younger and thinner than Miller but a good deal taller, with deep brown eyes and hair of the same colour.

"I think you two are going to get along." Said Hammond, unwittingly sounding like a teacher acquainting two pupils on their first day of big school. "This is Mr Williams, another of my bodyguards and also an ex-soldier. He will be acting as your medical officer on this little jaunt."

_It's gonna take more than a medic to save us on this 'little jaunt'. You'll need a bloody Undertaker by the time Rexy's finished with us._

Steve stuck out his hand again and this time it was shaken. "Johnny." The bodyguard spoke in a strong London accent.

"Where are you from?" Asked Steve in surprise.

"East End lad, me. Served in the Royal Marines for six years, injured in a training exercise and got discharged – ended up 'ere in sunny D.C." Replied Johnny with a grin.

"Good to meet you Johnny." Said Steve.

"Likewise skipper." Came the reply. "You'd better go say hello to the big guy."

Steve turned and looked at the two remaining men – there was no mistaking who Johnny was referring to. The gentleman in question was simply huge; muscles bulged from beneath his black t-shirt and his shaved head bore a large scar, running between his temples. He was heavily tanned and wore camouflage shorts and heavy boots –together, these features created the aura of someone not to be messed with.

Steve and Hammond walked over to him, the former moving somewhat cautiously. "This is Mr Rodriguez." Said Hammond.

The man mountain touched his brow respectfully, the gesture striking Steve as odd.

"_Buenas tardes, señor_." Rodriguez said, his voice husky. "How are you sir?"

The transition between languages was effortless but a thick Spanish accent remained.

"I'm well, thank you Rodriguez. This is Mr Muldoon, your new client." Said Hammond.

"A pleasure to meet you _señor_." Rodriguez turned his attention to Steve and offered a meaty fist. Steve took a deep breath and shook it, but to his relief the big man didn't break his hand in the powerful grip.

Rodriguez noticed Steve tensing his arm and smiled conspiratorially, lowering his head to the warden's level. "Do not worry _señor_, I do not crush clients. They need both hands to pay me." With that he let out a short, throaty laugh and stood up straight. Steve looked at Hammond enquiringly.

"Mr Rodriguez would describe himself as a private enforcement contractor – he's the best in the business, and grew up in Costa Rica so can act as your translator if needs be." Explained Hammond.

_I didn't think dinosaurs spoke Spanish._

"So he's a mercenary?" Steve asked sceptically, his voice lowered slightly for fear of angering he who had been so eloquently described as 'the big guy'. Rodriguez didn't seem to care however, and took a polite step backwards.

Hammond rolled his eyes. "Well, in a way, yes." He saw Steve was about to voice his concerns and hastily continued. "Look, I know what you're going to say, but before you do, let me tell you that his services have been fully payed for and there's a bonus waiting for him on successful retrieval of the DNA. He's got as much to lose as you have."

Steve shook his head sadly. "We haven't a hope in hell." He murmured quietly.

"Now now, don't talk like that. Come and meet the last member of your team." Hammond chided, dragging Steve over to where a slim man in his mid 40s was staring out of the window.

"This is Mr Smith – deputy head of Project Charisma. It's his DNA samples you will be looking for." Said Hammond.

Steve looked at the scientist, taking in his pale complexion and eyes that flicked constantly about the room. He couldn't remember ever having seen the man before, which was odd, as he was on first name terms with almost everyone who used to work on the _Isla Nublar_. Sure, there had been Smiths aplenty, but not this one… What's more, the warden knew for a fact the main dinosaur project had not been codenamed 'Project Charisma'.

_Strange… And Hammond said the DNA samples were 'advanced versions' of the main park species._

Steve was about to inquire as to the nature of the DNA, but was prevented the opportunity by Hammond once again taking on the role of over-eager schoolteacher.

The old man clapped his hands twice. "Well, now you've all met Steven, would you kindly take your seats – briefing starts now."

Hammond moved towards a desk at one end of the room as the team sat down in the chairs arranged in front. Eddy sat down beside Steve and whispered urgently into his ear.

"When's your Dad comin' in Steve? Is he already in Costa Rica? We need to talk."

Steve looked at Eddy sharply. "Haven't you heard?"

Eddy stared back blankly. "Heard what?"

"My Dad. He's dead. He never made it off the island." Steve breathed quietly.

Now it was Eddy's turn to look back sharply, not quite believing what he had just been told."

"Come again?" He asked incredulously.

"Oh yes, that island's a bad place. I don't know what else Hammond hasn't told you, but I saw things there. Only just made it off in fact, me and a few others." Steve rolled up his sleeve and showed Eddy the scars from his showdown with the Raptors in the control room. The older man shuddered.

"Man… I'm so sorry, I had no idea… Bob, dead… I can't believe it. I mean, I wondered why he never wrote after the island closed down but I never expected… My god... How did it happen?" Eddy was struggling to speak coherently – he and Muldoon senior had been close friends.

Steve shrugged, steeling himself against the rush of tears he knew would follow. "I don't know." He said simply, taking a couple of deep breaths before elaborating.

"I found his hat and gun outside the power shed in a pool of blood. There was a Raptor there… It attacked me but I killed it." Steve spoke shakily.

"Hold on… The Raptors got out?!" Eddy asked.

Steve ignored the question. "Look Eddy, I can't tell you how big a mistake this mission is… But there are two kids' lives at stake here and what's done is done. I'll do my best to fill you in on what we're likely to find, but it's still gonna be a damn site more dangerous than you... Hell, all of us thought at the beginning, not least because it's been two years since that fake nuclear testing zone was set up around it. We have no idea what's gone on there in that time, what's died, what's evolved…" At that point the lights went down and Hammond began talking, making further conversation impossible.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you all for attending at such short notice." The old man began, picking up a wooden pointer and flicking a switch on his desk. Behind him a screen flickered into life, displaying a map of the _Isla Nublar_ and surrounding ocean.

"As you know, you have all been brought together with the purpose of retrieving a certain artifact from the laboratories attached to the old Jurassic Park complex. However, the _Isla Nublar_ is off-limits to all non-US military personnel and for this reason I have planned an insertion that minimises the risk of your detection."

Johnny raised his hand. "Do the yanks have boots on the island?" He asked.

"Not so far as we know." Replied Hammond. "The island itself is considered a Grade 1 hazard area and the guard ships are on station a fair way offshore. We believe they would only enter the immediate vicinity in order to chase away unwanted visitors."

"So just us and a handful o' dinos." Said Johnny. "Sweet."

"As I was saying." Hammond continued. "The insertion method I have devised revolves around the radar capability of the ships. You see, the US Navy's system is such that, while it can detect surface vessels in a 60 nautical mile radius of the island, it can only detect aircraft within 25 nautical miles. This means we can fly a private charter plane most of the way in."

"But I don't get it." Said Eddy. "25 miles is plenty of time for them to blow us outta the sky."

Hammond shook his head. "My dear Mr Edwards, this is the clever part. I have discovered the Navy cannot detect surface vessels within 20 nautical miles of the island – the rocks and reefs obscure their sonar readings too much to be considered reliable. Therefore, I have arranged for the charter aircraft to be of the amphibian variety, meaning that you can simply land on the sea within this 20-mile radius."

"But we still have to fly those 5 miles." Persisted Eddy. "And if we suddenly drop of their scopes, they'll know we've landed."

Hammond, irritated by Eddy's lack of respect for his painstakingly considered plan, shot back. "The pilot will fly low and fast for those 5 miles, whilst transmitting static on his radio. This will create the illusion that the plane is in trouble and perhaps buy you enough time to launch an inflatable dinghy. The pilot will then take off and fly back the way he came, having only been off-radar for a few seconds – the Navy have no way of knowing that passengers have been disgorged in the middle of the ocean. Even if they do come looking, they will find it very hard to spot a small dinghy in the middle of the night."

Johnny groaned at the last sentence. "Does it have to be at night? Why can't we break in at a reasonable time o' day?".

Hammond was now very irritated and snapped. "Because the Navy must not find out the aircraft is an amphibian and because the dinghy cannot be seen. Now are there any more stupid questions, or can I get on with the briefing?"

"Just one." It was Steve who spoke. "How do we get off the island? I doubt the Navy will fall for this twice."

"I'm coming to that, give me a chance." Hammond grumbled, half considering a sulk before he remembered why they wanted the DNA – he needed it to save his grandchildren. There would be time enough to sulk later, he decided.

The old man reached into a drawer behind his desk and pulled out a small rectangular lump of plastic. "This is an encoded satellite telephone." He explained, holding the device aloft. "With this you can contact me without risk of detection. However, due to the small number of batteries my boffins have managed to incorporate, the telephone can only be used once – employ it to let me know you have the DNA. On receiving your message, I will fly down to Costa Rica to make the handover and send a private helicopter to the _Isla Nublar_ – and before you ask, Mr Williams, no, I cannot send you in by helicopter. If I did, the military would be aware of your presence on the island and, as you well know, we can't have that."

Hammond took a sip from a glass of water on his desk and continued. "Now, into greater detail. You will be dropped into the ocean about here…" He indicated a spot on the map behind him. "…And you should aim to reach this beach by daybreak." He pointed to another spot on the coastline. The screen changed to show a close up of the _Isla Nublar_.

"Upon landing, you should drag the dinghy into the trees and make your way to service road C12 – Steven, Mr Edwards, you know the way. When you reach the road, continue about three miles north until you reach the crossroads with G5, at which point you need to leave the road and head towards the Gallimimus and Brachiosaur paddock."

Steve shuddered at the mention of that place, knowing it would be the Tyrannosaur's favoured hunting ground.

_Item 176 on today's things that could go wrong list._

"A few hundred yards into the trees you will see a rock face with a door cut into it." Hammond continued. "That is the entrance to the Project Charisma laboratory containing the DNA, in the form of frozen embryos – the vial will be in one of the freezers and will look like this." The picture on the screen changed again, this time to show a sleek, black cylinder with the words 'Warning! Keep at below –20" stenciled across it."

_So I was right…_ Steve thought. _It's not the same as the dinosaurs in the park, even has a separate secure laboratory… And to think I never knew it was there…_

Steve had never known of the building's existence, let alone its location.

_Probably why I never met this Mr Smith gent._ He reasoned.

"There will be a number of refrigeration rucksacks somewhere in the laboratory – Mr Smith knows where they are. Providing they are fully charged they'll last around fifteen hours, which should be plenty of time to get them off the island." Explained Hammond.

"Seems like you've thought of everything, sir." Eddy piped up.

Hammond, delighted someone had finally acknowledged his self-proclaimed brilliance, nodded in appreciation. "As a matter of fact, I have." He said happily. "Well I think that'll be all, your car to the airport leaves in… Let's see…" He checked his watch. "Around forty-five minutes. Until then, please make yourselves at home. Briefing adjourned, I'll be in my Study." Hammond strode out and the lights gradually re-ignited.

"Well, there you go then." Eddy murmured thoughtfully.

"Yeah…" Steve affirmed, noticing Miller was nowhere to be seen. "Listen, I'm gonna go have a word with Hammond – see you in the car."

"If you say so Steve." Replied Eddy. "Take it easy, eh."


	4. Choice of Command

Steve was standing outside Hammond's door. He had been waiting there for around five minutes without knocking, intrigued by the voices issuing from behind the thin pinewood door. It appeared as though Hammond was having a heated disagreement with Miller.

"You promised us a leader and all we got was some kid!" The dulcet tones of Mr Miller echoed around the hallway.

"That's not just anyone! That's Steven Muldoon, son of my head game warden, the late Robert Muldoon!" Hammond yelled in reply. Steve was slightly flattered to hear the old man standing up for him.

"Exactly! That's his son and not the real thing! I told you this was crazy from the moment…" Miller was cut off by what sounded suspiciously like someone stamping their foot.

"Enough!" Bellowed Hammond. "You will go on this expedition and Steven Muldoon will lead it! Unless of course you've changed your mind about the…"

Miller cut in, his tone suddenly more respectful. "No no, sir, it's still on. I should be going now anyway, there're some things I have to attend to before we leave. See you soon, sir." He added hastily.

Steve hardly had time to move before the door swung open and Miller exited, closing the door after him. He caught sight of Steve, who was extremely busy pretending he hadn't been eavesdropping. This act lasted all of two seconds, and Miller span on his heel, marching off down the corridor. Steve made a snap decision and hurried after him.

"Hey, I don't mind you taking over command of the expedition, you know. I'll be honest with you, I haven't the faintest idea of how this kinda thing is done. We wouldn't have to tell Hammond, just you make all the decisions and do all the… Leader-y stuff." Said Steve, struggling to keep up with Miller's lightning pace.

"Mr Hammond's orders. Do as you are told." Was Miller's reply.

"You sure?" Steve persisted.

"Mr Hammond's orders." Miller reiterated.

"Okay, okay. Let me know if you change your mind." The young warden muttered and turned away, walking back towards Hammond's office. He needed to get things straight.


	5. The JP-Day Landings

The de Havilland DHC-3 Otter powered through the night sky, its Pratt & Whitney Wasp radial engine emitting a comforting growl as they flew. In the passenger compartment, Steve gazed out at the endless ocean below them, his thoughts on the perilous task that lay ahead.

Steve was jerked back into the real world by Johnny tapping him on the shoulder and pointing at Eddy, who was sitting opposite and was inexplicably fast asleep.

"How does he do it?!" Johnny whispered with a grin.

"He's either gifted or just damn lazy." Replied Steve, grateful for the conversation. As he spoke the engine note changed, becoming a whine and several octaves higher.

"I reckon we're nearly there." Observed Steve, leaning over to look out the window. Sure enough, they were beginning to lose height. "I'd better warm up the jammer." Said Johnny, unbuckling his harness and standing up – he cracked his head on the cabin ceiling as he did so.

"Oww! Hate flying... I'm knackered... Bloody stupid time of day…" Displeased mutterings issued from the rear of the cabin as the ex-marine set about working the powerful radio transmitter. This piece of tech was Hammond's idea and had been designed to broadcast intermittent messages and static, creating the illusion of a plane in trouble.

Another voice drifted down the cabin – this time it belonged to Rodriguez, who had squeezed his massive frame into the co-pilot's seat so he could talk to the Costa Rican pilot. "Wakey-wakey!" The voice boomed and Eddy obliged with a start. "He says we nearly there, señors."

There was silence for a moment before the big man spoke again. "Okay, we now in radar range!"

"Jammer active." Said Johnny as the transmitter began to spit bursts of static. "Let's hope this works!"

Right on cue, the radio in the cockpit crackled into life, the American voice at the other end cold and unemotional. "Unidentified aircraft, this is United States Navy radar control. You are entering restricted airspace. Request that you vacate the area immediately or we will be forced to take offensive action."

The radio at the back of the cabin replied immediately, its transmissions intercut with bursts of static. "Come in… Have… Position… Lost… Need he… We are… Low… Bravo Foxtrot… Eight."

There was a moment of silence, long enough for Rodriguez to report "Two miles gone" before the Navy replied. "I repeat, you are now entering restricted airspace. Vacate the area immediately or we will be forced to take offensive action."

"Is that all he can say? He's like a stuck record." Steve quipped.

"Need… Two Zero Niner… Engine… Of Type… Depart… Now." The jammer continued broadcasting.

"Three miles gone, señors." Said Rodriguez.

"Unidentified aircraft, this is your final warning. Vacate no-fly zone immediately." The Navy were obviously getting fed up.

Seconds later, Johnny let out a cry of anguish. "The jammer's packed up!"

"Then get it working again Williams!" Miller spoke for the first time.

"There's nothing I can do! The power's gone dry." Replied Johnny.

"Only one mile left, señors. We can make it!" Rodriguez yelled from the cockpit, partially deafening the pilot.

"Unidentified aircraft, this is United States Navy control. You will shortly be intercepted and escorted to a military installation by fighter jets from USS Carl Vinson. You are advised to comply without resistance."

"Shit. Get her down, quick!" Shouted Eddy in the general direction of the cockpit.

"Hang on tight, señors!" Replied Rodriguez grimly as the aircraft commenced a sickening descent. At the last moment, the pilot hauled the plane's nose up and Steve could've sworn he felt the waves lick the bottom of the Otter's floats.

"Five miles!" Said Rodriguez triumphantly before murmuring something to the pilot. The latter nodded and slowed the aircraft down, gradually decreasing altitude until the floats were gliding through the brine. Moments later they were stationary, the DHC-3 rolling with the waves as the pilot idled the engine.

"Go, go, go!" Steve shouted and reached under his seat for his equipment. He pulled out a large backpack, belt, M1911 pistol and his father's hat. Setting the latter firmly on his head, he unfastened and took down a SPAS-12 shotgun from the rack above him, taking care to keep its waterproof wrapping in place.

He glanced around and saw that the Rodriguez had vacated the cockpit and was inflating the dinghy by means of a small electric pump. Eddy stood behind him wearing identical equipment to Steve, save for the hat, and also carrying a covered SPAS-12. The two wardens were the only ones to have chosen the shotgun and the others were equipped with M16A2 assault rifles.

"All ready!" Rodriguez finished with the dinghy and went to recover his equipment. The rest of the team moved towards the hatch and jumped into the small boat. First Eddy, then Miller and Smith, next Johnny and finally Steve and Rodriguez. No sooner had the hatch closed than the pilot was off, swiftly disappearing into the darkness of the night. Almost before the engine of the Otter faded two more motors became audible – the unmistakably high-pitched scream of jet engines was closing in. The occupants of the boat lay motionless and, after what seemed like an eternity, the engines quietened and finally disappeared.

"Jeez…" Eddy sat up and rubbed his face in relief.

"I don't reckon they saw us." Said Johnny.

"Well that's part one down, now let's get to the island." Asserted Steve, reluctant to celebrate because of how much there was still to go wrong.

There were two sets of paddles in the dinghy and the occupants took turns, propelling the small boat through the inky black water in the direction of the _Isla Nublar_. Dawn broke as they sighted land, the ominous peaks of the island silhouetted against the rising sun.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it is my great pleasure to present to you... Jurassic Park!" Steve murmured, quoting from the tour guidebook. It seemed like an age ago he had read that particular pamphlet and a lifetime ago he had helped write it.

A short while later, the inflatable keel of the dinghy scraped the beach and the team climbed out, pulling the boat up into the tree line. Smith came last, covering up the drag marks to hide their presence from any prying aerial eyes.

By the time they had deflated and hidden the dinghy under a heap of branches the sun fully risen and they were bathed in warm, tropical sunlight. Steve stood and took in the sights, smells and sounds of his old home, momentarily overcome with emotion at setting foot on the island once again.

Johnny coughed. "Shall we get moving skipper?"

Steve was jolted out of his thoughts and recovered himself. "Yes, we'd better had." He glanced around, taking particular notice of the shape of the nearby coastline. "Looks like we're bang on target! C17 should be just over here…" He struck out into the trees with the others following closely. Sure enough, they found an overgrown service road a hundred yards into the trees.

"Bingo!" Said Steve, not a little pleased he still knew his way around after all this time.

Miller spoke up. "Mr Hammond said the crossroads is three miles to the north of here. I take it this road goes straight there?"

Eddy nodded. "Yeah, this is the one we need. Just follow it that-a-way and boom."

"Then, sir, I suggest we get going." Miller addressed Steve, his tone cold once again. "I have no desire to stay here longer that is absolutely necessary."

Steve, still feeling rather pleased with himself, didn't notice the ex-Sergeant's tone. "Agreed, let's move out."

As the team set off at a steady pace down the service road, Eddy fell into step alongside Steve. "Good to be home?"

Steve considered for a moment before replying. "Yeah. I guess it is."


	6. Nasty Blockage

"Okay, this is where we part company with the track and go off-road." Said Steve, pointing to his right at the jungle.

Eddy took a swig from his canteen. "Dunno know about you Steve, but I've never left the road here before."

Steve nodded, a grim expression settling across his features. "I have, once. Only we were coming back this way and our friend Rexy was close behind."

The two ex-soldiers present instinctively touched their guns at the mention of the big dinosaur. They hadn't seen, or heard for that matter, any sign of the prehistoric creatures populating the island since their arrival. It was quiet… Almost too quiet in fact.

"I know my way from here." Smith spoke for the first time since… Steve couldn't remember when he last said anything, if he had spoken at all. "My laboratory is just behind those trees, not far at all."

Eddy shrugged. "If you say so doc."

"You lead the way." Steve motioned to the scientist who hesitantly moved to the front of the party. Miller and Johnny glanced at each other and unslung their weapons simultaneously, treading carefully as they followed Smith into the jungle.

"Is he even a doctor?" Steve asked Eddy, who chuckled.

"Dunno what else to call him." The Texan replied. "Hold on, ain't there a fence this way?"

"Yes." Said Steve simply, remembering the heart-wrenching moment Tim Murphy had been thrown off said fence by 10000 volts of returning charge. "I doubt the fence still works, but if it does, Hammond gave me one of the old a fence repair kits.

The fence repair kits consisted of charge lines, diverters, a non-conductive attachment tool, a pair of insulated wire cutters and a reel of spare cable – Steve hadn't been supplied with the latter. The idea was simple: the charge lines were applied to the electrified wire with the protective attachment tool, creating a 'bridge' over the damaged section that needed removing. A diverter (one of Hammond's early patents) was then placed on the damaged wire to divert the current off the damaged area and through the bridge. This meant the deactivated wire could be removed and replaced as required, without having to turn the whole fence off. In this sense, Steve planned to use the kit to create a tunnel through the fence rather than replace broken parts.

The jungle was not thick and progress was fast. Within a matter of minutes they had reached the clump of trees Smith had indicated, but there was still no sign of the laboratory.

"I don't get it." Said Eddy. "You sure it's this way?"

Smith ignored the Texan and plunged into the thicket. Steve shared yet another bewildered glance with Eddy before following Smith's lead into the trees, pushing aside branches and fern fronds with the butt of his shotgun. Suddenly they burst out of the trees and found themselves in a small clearing, surrounded on three sides by a smooth rock face. Smith was standing stock still, staring at one of the walls.

"Here." The scientist muttered absently. "It was about here."

He moved towards the rock and began poking around, apparently searching for something. Eddy shook his head sadly and was about to make a snide remark when a loud thud shook the clearing. Smith had vanished.

"Where the 'ell did he go?" Exclaimed Johnny.

"There, look." Steve pointed. A large hole had opened up in the side of the previously unblemished cliff.

"Well I'll be…" Murmured Eddy. "How come we never knew about this?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Replied Steve. "But from what I've heard, Project Charisma was supposed to be top secret – makes sense to have a hidden laboratory."

"You turkeys gonna stand there chattin' all day?" Johnny enquired, setting off in the direction of the cave mouth.

"Wait up!" Steve and Eddy hurried after him, closely followed by Rodriguez and, as usual, the completely impartial Miller.

The cave went back a long way. After several bends the thin rays of sunlight from the outside world faded completely, meriting the use of the powerful torches supplied by Hammond.

"Now where the hell's he go to?" Eddy growled in Steve's ear. Before the younger man could reply, they rounded another bend and came upon the scientist. He registered the presence of the others and turned, addressing no one in particular.

"There's been a rock fall." Despite his surroundings, he spoke in the same vacant way as ever.

Steve pushed past the scientist using slightly more force than necessary and inspected the passageway. Sure enough, the way was blocked – part of the ceiling had caved in and one of the walls had collapsed. Steve shone his torch and looked more closely at the lower left corner of the path. There was a small gap there – not big enough for a man, but it would just about fit a medium-sized dog.

_A medium-sized dog. Hmm._

Steve stepped back and addressed Rodriguez – the big man was struggling with the cave roof, his bald head scraping painfully against the rocks.

"Mr Rodriguez, do you have anything for a nasty blockage?" Said Steve.

The big Costa Rican smiled. "I know just the thing, señor." He squeezed past the others and stood beside the collapsed area. In one movement, he detached a small, round object from his belt and rolled it under the gap in the blockage.

"Boom boom time." He stated gleefully, raising his right hand and extending five fingers. He counted down on these, as he did so carefully manoeuvring himself so that his large frame was braced against the passage walls in preparation for the blast. The others took refuge around the next bend, crouching down and covering their ears. Steve suddenly had the feeling Rodriguez was showing off.

_Just a little. Probably thinks there's a bonus in it for him._

The explosion, when it came, was a little disappointing – a muffled *_crump*_ was all the detonating grenade could muster. However, it did the job – the hole in the blockage was now big enough for those of a human persuasion to squeeze through. Rodriguez wasted no time and was already cramming himself through when Steve and the others arrived back at the collapse.

The scientist went to follow but, before he could get through the hole, Steve pulled him back.

"Not you." The young warden said, exerting his authority for the first time.

_Medium-sized dogs._

"We'll handle this. You head back to the clearing and set up camp – we know what we're looking for."

Smith was about to protest, but Steve wasn't finished. "We don't need you going off ahead on your own again. There could be all kinds of… Things down here, you should know." Steve had an idea. "Mr Miller, you stay with Mr Smith."

If Smith had looked angry, Miller was positively shaking with rage at being bossed around by this… Kid. The ex-Sergeant struggled to compose himself and splutter out a response, but Steve was having none of it – he had discovered he rather liked this command lark.

"That's an order Mr Miller, and what's more, my orders come from Mr Hammond. Mr Hammond's orders. Do as you are told." Steve quoted Miller's own words from their confrontation in a corridor far, far away, back in Hammond's mansion.

There was a stunned silence as Miller struggled to comprehend the magnitude of this insult to his honour. Eventually he reached some sort of conclusion and stood to attention stiffly.

"Yes sir." He said and saluted, his haughty air all but returning as if it had never been away. "Mr Smith, this way please." The ex-Sergeant turned on his heel and strode back down the corridor whence they had come.

Smith turned and looked at Steve coldly. "Do not think you've heard the last of this." He followed Miller and disappeared once again around the corner.

Steve stood and breathed deeply, amazed at what he had just achieved. A few seconds later he felt a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon Steve, let's go find that DNA and get outta here." Eddy drawled softly.


	7. Lab Raptors

Rodriguez lead the way down the rock hewn corridor, closely followed by Johnny, then Steve, and finally Eddy. The passage was larger this side of the blockage and the big Costa Rican could stand up unhindered.

They continued on for an indeterminate period until Rodriguez stopped suddenly. "There's a door here, señors." He explained briefly.

"Is it locked?" Asked Johnny.

Rodriguez pushed the door experimentally and it creaked open slowly.

"No señors." The big man stated, rather obviously.

The four stepped through the rusty doorway and found themselves in a huge room – the floor was strewn with desks and control consoles and a large glass balcony jutted out from the far wall.

Steve took a sharp intake of breath. "This must be the lab. D'ya reckon the lights still work?"

Eddy ran his hand down the wall beside the door and immediately found what he was looking for – a large lever-switch was situated at shoulder height.

"Hold on to your butts." The Texan quipped, quoting the catchphrase of his and Steve's mutual friend and colleague, and threw the switch.

A loud rumble echoed around the cavern, followed by the high pitched whine of turbines spooling up. The note eventually settled and the lights flickered on dimly. Steve couldn't help but marvel at Hammond's engineering.

_Two years gathering dust and the generators still work. Spared no expense._

Steve stepped gingerly across the floor, picking his way through the dust by the light of the gradually brightening strips above. "Alright gents, you know the drill. Leave no bench unturned, we need that DNA." Steve looked around, taking in the exact proportions of the room.

"Mr Rodriguez, Johnny, you check out this room – those cupboards are worth a look." The young warden pointed to a large bank of lockers up against the wall. "Eddy, you search the balcony. I'm gonna take a look at that room over there."

The group split up and began the search. Steve headed towards the other door he had spotted a moment ago – it was set in the wall to their right and sported a rusty padlock.

_Everything's rusty… The roof must leak._

Steve brought the butt of his shotgun down on the door handle and it sprung open, the fragile lock falling to the floor and shattering at his feet. Steve cast a cursory glance down and saw there was a small hole in the wall, near the base of the door. The hole was just about big enough for… A medium-sized dog.

_I have a bad feeling about this._

Raising his weapon to the shoulder, he took a deep breath and kicked open the door. As he did so, completed the quote he had begun a long, long time ago. "Here's Johnny…" He muttered. The room was empty.

Exhaling in relief, Steve lowered the SPAS-12 and scanned the room more closely – it was much smaller than the other room and one wall was completely taken up by a bank of freezers.

_Freezers! Bingo._

Steve went over to the freezers and cautiously lifted the lid of the first one – it was empty.

_Second time lucky._

He snatched open the second lid – also empty.

_Three's a charm._

The third was empty too.

_One left – I bloody hope we haven't come here for nothing…_

The fourth was most definitely not empty – it was scattered with shards of black plastic and full of some kind of goo, which smelt awful. A horrible suspicion crossed Steve's mind and he reached inside, picking out one of the larger pieces of material. A quick glance at it confirmed his worst fears – the plastic bore the words "below –20 degrees" stenciled in white.

The chunk slipped out of his hands as he realised the enormity of the situation. Freezer number four had contained the black DNA cylinders, but something had happened and the capsules had been destroyed.

As Steve bent to pick up the dropped plastic to show the others, something else caught his eye. There was a hole in the bottom of the freezer, a hole the same size as all the others. But in the dust beside this hole, there were footprints. Three-toed footprints. Raptor footprints.

_Oh bugger – they hatched._

Steve jumped to his feet and sprinted for the door. "We need to get outta here, now!" He yelled to the others, but the warning came too late. A cry of alarm came from the other side of the lab, followed by two gunshots. In the half-light of the larger chamber, Steve saw Johnny lying on the floor and Rodriguez brandishing his M-16 menacingly in the direction of a small heap of boxes.

Steve charged across the lab and joined the others, raising his SPAS-12. "You ok Johnny?" He asked.

"I think so…" Johnny got to his feet gingerly, nursing his left wrist and reaching for his fallen rifle. "There's something down here Steve… And it's got teeth."

"Behind those crates, señor. A small lizard." Said Rodriguez, his gaze fixated on the boxes.

At that moment Eddy burst onto the scene, waving his shotgun wildly. "What was it?" He panted.

"I didn't see exactly." Replied Johnny. "We opened one of those lockers and it jumped us – must have been hiding here the whole time. The little critter sank its teeth into my arm and then hid behind those boxes – got a couple of shots off but I guess we missed."

"Could've been a baby Raptor." Steve cut in. "In the small room I found a set of three-toed footprints leading from the freezer."

"Did you find the DNA?" Asked Eddy. "No joy in the balcony, but I did find the cooling backpacks.

Steve shook his head. "The DNA cylinders were all destroyed – smashed to pieces and covered in goo."

There was a silence as this information sunk in. The mission was in tatters, without the DNA there was no hope for Hammond's grandchildren.

Eddy was the first to speak, a frown crossing his features. "Hold on… Did you say you found footprints by that freezer?"

Steve nodded.

"And the vials were shattered?" Eddy asked.

Steve nodded again.

"Then that wasn't goo… That was amniotic fluid. Those weren't DNA cylinders – they were synthetic eggs!"

"What?!" Johnny and Steve chorused. Rodriguez was still deeply engrossed in watching the crates and was paying no attention to the discussion.

"Think about it." Eddy continued. "When I switched on the lights it turned on the generators, so they must've been off for the past two years. That means there was no power to keep the freezers running so the contents thawed out and hatched. You said the vials were shattered – like eggshells. They were growing Raptors here… And now we're slap bang in the middle of their nest."

"Then what're we gonna do?" Asked Johnny in despair. "All the DNA's hatched and we're being hunted down by baby dinosaurs."

Right on cue an inhuman scream echoed around the chamber.

"Run." Steve answered Johnny's question in a half-whisper and began sidling towards the exit, his shotgun still raised. The others followed cautiously, keeping a lookout for more of the unseen enemy. Eddy spotted one first. "There! Behind that workbench." Then Johnny. "Another, just jumped off the balcony."

"Steady, steady… Hold fire." Steve warned as they backed towards the door. Just as it seemed they were going to make it, another high-pitched screech sounded and the Raptors broke cover, rushing the four humans as one. Rodriguez opened fire first, his M-16 spitting tongues of flame as he attempted to gun down the aggressors. The other three followed suit and blazed away into the dimly lit room – then the attack was over as quickly as it had begun and silence fell in the wake of the deadly din.

"Did… Did we get 'em?" Steve asked, rather shakily. Rodriguez stepped forward and crouched down, carefully checking the floor. When he stood and turned to face the others, a look of puzzlement set firmly upon his features. "No corpses señor." He replied. "No blood, nada."

"Strange..." Muttered Eddy, bemused. "Could've sworn I smoked at least two of 'em."

"Our shooting must be rustier than we thought!" Exclaimed Johnny in agreement.

That was when the second attack came. This time the creatures struck silently, the only noise coming from the scuffling of claws upon the tiled laboratory floor. Three Raptors singled out Rodriguez and flew at the big man with jaws wide open, but not for the first time, the big Costa Rican had been underestimated by his opponent – with almost superhuman reactions, Rodriguez span and swung the butt of his rifle in a vicious arc. The sheer force of this blow snapped two of the raptors' necks and layed the third out for the count.

Meanwhile, Steve and Eddy squeezed two shots each into the dinosaur ranks and, seeing Rodriguez holding his own against the Raptor pack, made a break for the door. Moments later Johnny joined them in the corridor, struggling to reload his M-16 with his damaged hand.

Rodriguez stooped to pick up one of the dead Raptors and sprinted for the exit, firing his M-16 as he ran. The Costa Rican reached the door without hitch and Steve slammed it after him, leaning back against it and breathing hard. He noticed for the first time that there were lights set in the walls of the passage, apparently also powered by the laboratory generators.

_Phew. We made it._

In the confined space, the roar of Eddy's shotgun was all but deafening and it took the other three a moment to compose themselves. Steve looked at the Texan questioningly, who wordlessly pointed at the base of the door. The others followed his finger and saw a hole that had, until moments ago, accommodated a murderous dinosaur.

"Run?" Steve panted.

"Run." Replied Johnny, equally out of breath.

How ever long it had taken to reach the laboratory, it took half as long to get back to the blockage. The pelted hell-for-leather down the passage and threw themselves thankfully through the gap. Almost before Steve had dived through, Rodriguez began blocking up the hole, using his M-16 as a shovel while the others scrabbled at the smaller rocks.

_He uses that rifle for everything._

Spurred on by the ever-loudening cries from the other side of the blockage, the foursome soon had the hole filled in. The baby Raptors tried to quarry their way through, but soon gave up and the screeching faded away as the dinosaurs returned to the lab. The humans sank down, exhausted by their narrow escape.

"That was close." Ventured Steve.

"Too bloody close." Agreed Johnny.

"Heh, we're safe with one-man-army here." Eddy motioned to Rodriguez who smiled modestly before slinging the dead dinosaurs to the floor.

"What do you make of it, señors?" He asked.

Steve moved in to take closer look. The creature was scaly like a lizard, except the armour plates shimmered in the light of the dim passage lighting, such that no precise colour could be discerned. Its tail was long and muscled while its front limbs bore razor-sharp claws – all in all, it was about the size of a Labrador.

_A medium-sized dog. Of course._

Steve looked up at Eddy, who was also studying the dinosaur intently. "You're the expert Eddy." Steve referred to the Texan's time as head Velociraptor keeper.

Eddy nodded slowly, struggling to tear his gaze away from the creature's scaly hide. "It's a Raptor alright, a baby one at that. But I've never seen one quite like this… It's anatomically very similar to the park exhibit, but there's something… I'm not sure. It's somehow different."

Rodriguez grunted and drew his pistol. "Stand back señors."

He pulled the trigger twice and the shots found their mark, which was the dead Raptor lying on the cave floor. The Costa Rican holstered his pistol, leaned over and picked up the corpse. He pointed at the animal's hide, which was, unbelievably, unbroken. "See?" He said in distaste, throwing it down again. "No scratch. Bullets don't work."

This revelation, somewhat understandably, brought a disbelieving silence from the others – it was obvious that Rodriguez hadn't missed, so where had the bullets gone?

"At least it's not our shooting that's rusty." Murmured Johnny, looking on the bright side as the others wrestled with the preposition Rodriguez had put forward.

_A bulletproof dinosaur. Whatever next._

"It's the only possible explanation…" Eddy muttered.

"You know, we could just ask Smith." Steve was the voice of reason.

"Yeah, this cave creeps me out anyway." Johnny agreed hastily.

Rodriguez went to pick up the dinosaur but Steve stopped him. "That… Thing… Stays here." Rodriguez looked slightly disappointed but didn't bother to argue, instead picking up his M-16 and cradling it lovingly.

The foursome headed towards the daylight and soon reached the entrance, the bright sunlight momentarily blinding them. As their eyes adjusted, Steve cast around for the scientist. He was nowhere to be seen.

"Great. Now where's he got to?"Growled Steve. "Spread out, see if we can find them."

The others obeyed and strode out of the clearing, carefully combing the surrounding forest in search of Messrs Smith and Miller. After about five minutes of fruitless hunting, Rodriguez's voice boomed through the trees. "Señors! Over here!"

It took Steve less than thirty seconds to reach the big Costa Rican. When he did, he found him crouching beside a clump of swamp grass – red swamp grass.

A horrible feeling ran down Steve's spine as he approached and it was confirmed almost immediately. The grass was red with blood – the blood of Mr Smith. Kneeling down beside Rodriguez, the young warden saw Smith didn't have long left. He was bleeding from multiple places, his face was ashen and clammy and very little remained of his left leg.

Johnny and Eddy burst through the trees and pulled up short when they saw the stricken scientist. Johnny reached for his medical kit instinctively, but his hand dropped away when he saw the extent of the scientist's injuries. He had needed hospital at least fifteen minutes ago and was past the doctor stage now – a priest would be more appropriate, but Johnny somehow doubted the scientist would require last rites.

Steve looked at Johnny for confirmation of Smith's condition and the Londoner shook his head, the message clear – no hope for him.

Somehow Smith sensed this and managed to open his eyes, his pupils gazing unseeingly skywards. Steve knew he had to seize his chance – the dying man could still help the others survive.

"I know you must be in a lot of pain, but we need to know some facts." Steve began gently, before Eddy motioned at him to hurry up – time was of the essence. "The dinosaurs you were breeding in the lab, just how special were they?" Steve finished.

The scientist opened his mouth and coughed once, twice, thrice – then spoke. "Ohhh… Very special… So special…" He wheezed, breaking off into what sounded like a giggle. "My greatest achievement… Our finest hour… Ahhh…" He trailed off and his eyes began to close, for what Steve suspected would be the final time. He suddenly remembered the other member of their party. "And Miller? Where's Mr Miller?"

"Miller… Drew them away… They chased him and left me… To die… I'm going to die… Die…" His eyes closed and, as realisation suddenly dawned, Smith began to cry. "Don't let me die."

"I'm sorry." Was all Steve could think of to say. "I'm so sorry." On impulse he reached for the scientist's hand and grasped it as if he could help the man cling desperately to life. Steve felt the final breath leave Smith's body and the young warden felt a lump rise into his throat. He let go of the scientist's hand and the limb fell lifelessly to the floor, making a slight splash as it landed in a pool of blood.

Steve stood and turned away from the others, striding away from the dead scientist – he had to get away, anywhere but here. "Here" was a bad place. He heard murmured conversation from the others and felt their eyes on his back as he made his way back to the clearing. Emotions heaving, he sat down and leaned against a sun warmed rock face. A single tear slipped down his cheek as he thought about the man he hardly knew – the man who had died under his command, because of his decision – if he had let Smith come with them to the lab then he would still be alive.

_Miller was right… I'm not a leader. He's dead because of me._

Hearing the others approaching, Steve hastily brushed the tear off his face and sniffed. Johnny came over and sat down beside the young warden.

"You ok mate?" He asked, unknowingly mimicking Steve's words from a few days ago – it seemed like a lifetime.

"Yeah, fine…" Steve lied. "It's just… How many people have to die in this place? I've seen so much death here, so much pain… I wish I… No, I wish we never came here, fat lot of good it's done – one man dead, another probably and all for nothing."

Johnny took drastic measures. "Look, Steve, do you know why Hammond chose me for this mission?"

Steve felt the lump rise again. "Yeah, 'cause you're the best of the best and all that."

Johnny shook his head. "Nope, all hot air – remember when I said I was injured in a training exercise? Well, that's not quite true. I served in the Gulf War as a combat medic with the Royal Marines. We were out on patrol one night when a gang of hostiles jumped us – took out the entire squad, all except for me and one other lad – James, his name was. We made a break for it but he stood on a land mine. I went back, but there nothin' left – just a bit of helmet and his gun. I made it back to base and got sent home, said I had to recover from the psychological impact… I still have nightmares about that night. Why me, I ask… Why should they all die and leave me without a scratch." Johnny was silent for a moment, lost in his thoughts. "Anyway, you're not alone, ok?"

Steve didn't know what to say. "Umm… Sure." He managed.

Before the conversation could go any further, Eddy and Rodriguez joined them – the latter was carrying Smith's rucksack in addition to his own.

"So, what's the plan now boss?" Eddy inquired.

"Bury Smith, I guess." Replied Steve reluctantly. Rodriguez took a sharp intake of breath and shook his head vigorously. "Bad idea señor. Very bad."

"The big guy's right." Johnny chipped in. "Better leave him to the dinos, might draw the heat off us for a bit."

"Fine, fine." Steve sighed. "Guess we'd better try and find Miller." He looked around and his gaze rested on a large tree, a good deal taller than the rest. "I'll shin up that tree and see if I can spot him."

The others nodded in agreement and Steve slipped off his pack and headed for the tree. There were lots of branches so climbing was easy and Steve made fast progress up the tree.

_Miller led the dinos away from Smith… I was wrong about him – maybe he is a bit sharp, but he's a brave man._

Thoughts whirling round his head, the young warden reached the summit of the huge tree and surveyed the surrounding landscape in search of… Well, anything – anything that may provide a clue to Miller's whereabouts.

The search proved fruitless and Steve was about to descend when something caught his eye – a thin plume of smoke had begun to rise from what the young warden had so far assumed to be a thicket of trees.

Steve rummaged in his thigh pocket for his binoculars and inspected the thicket more closely. He drew breath sharply as he saw it was in fact a double layer of camouflage netting covering a circle of five large tents – the smoke was coming from a smouldering fire in the center. Sweeping the area, Steve saw that the tents were actually pitched within an overgrown Dilophosaurus holding pen, and that the surrounding electric fence had been cleared of vegetation.

_Bloody hell… Someone's set up a dino-proof campsite._

Steve was about to vacate his lookout for the second time when he noticed movement in the circle of tents. A small figure darted out from one of the canvas constructions and began sprinting towards the fence. Judging by the long hair, Steve guessed it was a girl. A moment later, two large men exited another tent and gave chase. The pursuit didn't last long and ended abruptly when the first figure reached the perimeter fence and began desperately looking for something – Steve guessed she was roughly were the gate would have been positioned and so deduced she was looking for a method of escape.

It took the two men around three seconds to catch the girl and, when they did, the resistance was short-lived. They shepherded her against the fence until one man was close enough to rugby-tackle her, which he did with apparent aplomb. She was then hauled to her feet and roughly dragged back to the tent whence she came. Just before she vanished from sight, the girl screamed.

Despite the distance, Steve almost fell out of his tree when he heard the cry. He knew that sound only too well, having heard it multiple times two years ago. That scream belonged to Alexis Murphy.


End file.
